


Out of the Frying Pan

by ArgentSleeper



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 10:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10462542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentSleeper/pseuds/ArgentSleeper
Summary: Arthur is back from a backpacking trip through Europe, and he's brought back more than one surprise for his sister.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely not edited in any way, shape, or form, but is the first bit of slightly fluffy nonsense I've written in a year, so I'm proud of it anyway.
> 
> Inspired by a clickbait "article" I've read in about ten different forms over the years.

 

Much as Morgana hated to admit it, and certainly never would where anyone could hear it, image was an important thing. That was why she spent a painstaking hour to do her makeup each morning despite the mournful call from her comfy bed, and why she squeezed herself into the sleekest dresses each day for work no matter what the weather (okay, and she also really loved most of them). It was also why she would absolutely never admit how much she loved her brother.

She was sure deep, _deep_ down he knew that. Morgana had been the one to support him to their father about Arthur's switching his major to history instead of political science, and had been fully behind his decision to take a gap year before his senior year of university to explore Europe. His entire childhood and adolescence Arthur had never done a thing outside what Uther wanted him to do. Any deviance from the master plan was something to be encouraged.

Arthur was back now. His flight had gotten in about two hours ago, and Morgana would have met him at the airport if the manager of her Paris branch hadn't been so completely incompetent. If Jean kept this up, she might have to make a trip to France sooner rather than later. Not that she would ever complain about visiting the city of lights, but first she had another visit to make.

Morgana didn't bother to knock, instead using her key (which she actually had forgotten to mention making but Arthur wouldn't whine overly too much about it after a few days), to unlock the door and let herself in. “Brother dear, there had better be a new Italian handbag somewhere in this flat.”

Unsurprisingly there was a flurry of swearing from one of the back rooms. She _may_ have neglected to mention to Arthur that she was coming to visit. But really, it was only to be expected. Her baby brother had been gone for a whole year. Of course she'd want to get back to tormenting him as soon as possible.

“Morgana? What are you doing here?”

“Making schnitzel and watching a terrible slideshow of the Parthenon and Eiffel Tower and whatever other touristy things you decided to do when you abandoned me here.” She picked up the case she'd deposited by the door and continued to yell down the hall. “I'm putting my things in the spare room.”

“Wait-” Arthur stumbled out of his room, cutting her off in the hallway. “Morgana, you- you can't just-”

She rolled her eyes. “I missed you too, brother.”

“Morgana,” Arthur groaned, though she spotted a pleased blush on his cheeks. “I have a roommate.”

“Since when?” Arthur was adamant about the fact that he wanted to live alone. Not entirely of his own doing he was a spoiled brat who could barely stand to share an entire wing of the mansion with her, let alone a tiny flat above a solicitor’s office.

Another head poked out of Arthur’s room. “Hi, I'm Merlin. You probably don't remember, but we knew each other back in primary. Arthur stole my action figure on the playground and made me cry and you rescued me.”

Morgana inspected the stranger. And he _was_ a stranger; she didn't recall the incident in the slightest. The man was of a height with Arthur, with messy black hair and sharp cheekbones. He grinned easily at her, so unlike the usual first (and second and third) reaction she got of awe and a good bit of fear.

“Merlin and I met up -by coincidence- somewhere around Brussels. We travelled together for a bit, and when he told me he needed a place to live when he got back to England, I thought, why not move him in here?”

“Yes, why not?” Morgana repeated dumbly. The story was so absolutely unlike the brother she knew who swore he wanted to do this whole trip on his own, and refused to ever even let a girlfriend move into his flat.

Merlin winced sheepishly, glancing towards Arthur. “I'm sorry if I'm taking your bed.” He gestured towards the guest room. “I can just... crash on the couch while you're here, I guess.”

Morgana finally shook herself out of it. “I suppose I should have called ahead. Who knew my baby brother would have made a friend? I didn't even think he knew how!”

Merlin laughed and Arthur's blush deepened. He brushed by her and shoved her case into the guest room- now Merlin's room. “Stop trying to chase off my new tenant and go make yourself useful.”

“From roommate to tenant in less than a few minutes! Poor Merlin, you really must watch out! Arthur always has been such a fickle creature.”

“ _Morgana_.”

Merlin was still smiling so Morgana ignored her brother's frustration. “Come, Merlin. Let us bastardise German cuisine with our poor British sensibilities.”

Arthur held Merlin back, and Morgana let it go, continuing to the kitchen. She was sure her brother was warning him about his terrifying older sister. Merlin had nothing to worry about really. She reserved her worst for Arthur and those of her underlings who were annoying her that day (which unfortunately was most of them most of the time).

By the time the boys emerged again, Morgana had the coating on the pork and it was sizzling away in the fry pan.

“So, Merlin, where have you been since primary?”

Her brother's new roommate helped her with the spätzle while regaling her with stories of his adolescence in northern France with his mother and uncle. His trip to Brussels was only meant to be for a weekend until he ran into Arthur. “I’d just applied for a job as a translator here in Camelot and needed to take my mind off it. I hadn't intended to have my mind stray any further than Belgium, but well…” He shrugged with a grin.

“Yes, Arthur said much the same when his month in Spain turned into a trot around the globe.” She shot her brother a look. He'd left her to be the one to tell Uther about his extended absence. “I hope you at least called your poor mother more than once or twice while you were gone.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I was trying to forget Camelot, Morgana. I was hardly going to check in on it regularly.”

Morgana sniffed, though she had gotten over her annoyance on the matter ages ago. “Never mind that your precious _sister_ lives in Camelot…”

That earned her another eye roll, but she noted Arthur's mouth twisted guiltily. Not wanting to bring down the mood, she switched subjects, relating for Merlin's enjoyment one of the many embarrassing stories she had of Arthur's childhood. Arthur protested good-naturedly and shot back with a tale of his own about her. Merlin was in stitches over it all throughout their dinner.

“Now, I want pictures,” Morgana demanded as the last dish was piled in the sink. Arthur made a noise of protest and reached for the dish soap, but she knocked his hand away. “I'll do them later, brother dear. Right now I expect pictures and presents.”

“What makes you think we got you anything?” he sniped even as he walked away towards the bedroom.

“He really missed you,” Merlin said quietly once they were alone. “He was always telling me what you would have done had you been there.”

“Driven him mad most like,” Morgana retorted though her heart warmed. “It’ll be good for him to have a roommate. I never liked the thought of him here alone. Though if you tell him that I'll deny it of course.”

Merlin smiled broadly at her, a shadow of something in his eyes. “My lips are sealed, my lady.”

“Arthur!” she yelled down the hall with a wink at the man she could tell was going to be a good friend. “How long does it take for you to get the gold necklace you bought in Switzerland?”

“Hold your horses, woman! Maybe I'm planning to flee to Austria to be rid of you!”

“You wouldn't leave poor Merlin here to my mercies,” she smirked. “By this point he knows too much about you, and you know my extraction methods are many.”

That brought Arthur out in a hurry, throwing a box on her lap. “Here, witch. Remind me why I came home again?”

“Because Uther was ready to call Interpol if you didn't.”

Arthur had indeed gotten her a purse from Italy, and inside were a series of Christmas ornaments, one from each country he'd visited.

“Those were Merlin's idea,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed at the sentimental gift.

“I love them.” Morgana leaned over and gave Merlin a kiss on the cheek, which turned beet red as if he was allergic to her lips. “Thank you.”

She kept Merlin by her side while she flipped through the photos on Arthur's mobile, all tucked into a convenient folder with her name on it. There weren't nearly as many as she'd been expecting.

“I didn't want to be that tourist,” Arthur scoffed with a glance at Merlin. She'd be willing to bet Merlin was hiding those touristy photos on his own phone.  She'd pry them out of him later. “Pushing over the Leaning Tower or kissing the Sphinx.”

“You didn't even visit the Sphinx.”

“So far as you know.”

“You said you weren't leaving Europe!”

There was such a comforting sense of familiarity in their bickering Morgana didn't want it to end. But as the evening grew later and Merlin's half-hidden yawns became more frequent, she knew it had to. “I'm sorry for stealing your room your first night here.”

Merlin fluffed the pillow on his makeshift couch bed. “It's no problem.” He flashed her a now familiar smile, but she could sense a little tension behind it. He'd grown quieter and quieter as the night had gone by. Nice as he was, she supposed she shouldn't have expected him to be a saint. Perhaps next time she would call before stopping by.

She bid them both goodnight, retreating to room in question. Morgana lay awake in bed, mind still buzzing slightly from happiness and wine. It was good to have her brother home, if only the circumstances of their reunion hadn't been so awkward. She'd make it up to Merlin later, maybe take him out to breakfast. Then she could make good on her threat and ply all the details about their trip that Arthur didn't want her to know. She was sure there had been a foreign girl or two (or three or four), that he wasn't talking about. Not that she would judge him. There were a few nights during a conference in Sweden she looked back on fondly herself.

“I'm sorry about all this.”

Morgana sat up in surprise. Was that her stubborn prat of a brother _apologising_?

“About what?” replied Merlin's voice, far colder than it had been all evening. She slipped out of bed and pressed her ear against the door to listen more closely.

“Morgana, the couch, the pictures...”

“I like Morgana,” Merlin said stiffly.

“She liked you, too.”

There was silence for a long minute, and Morgana wondered if the strange conversation might be over. Then, “How long do we have to do this for?”

Arthur sighed. “Merlin, you knew-”

“Yes, I knew what I was getting into, and I know I agreed to it. I just didn't expect…” His voice lowered almost too quiet for Morgana to make out. “I didn't realise it would be this hard.”

“I'm sorry,” Arthur repeated, with more sincerity than Morgana had ever heard from him before.

“Me too.”

There was more silence, and slowly Morgana was beginning to process what was happening here, heart twisting at the pain in Merlin's voice. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen the signs earlier.

Her brother murmured something too soft for her, and Merlin replied, “But Morgana…”

“She never gets up before ten if she can help it. She'll never know.”

A few moments later the door to her brother's room snicked shut and Morgana knew if she looked out into the living room she would see an empty couch.

 

* * *

 

 

  
It was a week before her midnight plans finally bore fruit. The text came from her brother while she was in the middle of the foreseen meeting with Jean at the Paris hub.

> **Arthur** : _Look, I'm not saying you did something and I'm definitely not saying you didn't, but the fact remains that our frying pan has been missing ever since you came to visit._

Morgana smirked. _Our_.

> **Morgana** : _Brother dear, I'm not saying you are sleeping with Merlin and we both know I'm not saying you aren't, but the fact remains that if he was sleeping in his own room you would know where the frying pan was._

The three dots indicating typing blinked on the screen for five minutes before disappearing. No reply came through.

> **Morgana** : _I love you, baby brother._


End file.
